EuroLyrics.eu - teksty piosenek

[Redman]
Mic check I can get smooth to any groove
Relax the tongue let my mic take a cruise
Around the planet pack em in like Janet
Jackson she’s askin if I can slam it
I’m….

[Hurricane G]
Yo yo Redman! Man what the FUCK man?
Get the FUCK off that.. punk smoov shit man!
Get with that ROUGH shit man you know how we do!

[Redman]
Mic check I walk around the streets with a black tech nine
By the waistline, kickin the hype shit
I never claim to be the best type of rapper
But hafta, show them motherfuckers what I’m after
I’m after the gold, then after that the platinum
Beef after that, Hurricane G packs the gat son
Trigger, bang, bang, yo bust the slang, whut my name?
It’s the Redman on the funk thang
Psyche, you’re motherfuckin right, tonight’s the night
To do what I wanna do, to do it like dynamite
The work perfected, when the funk been ejected
I roughen up the rough draft to like make your head split
Punk! Pass the 40 and the blunt and don’t front
On the block, cause when you do front, brothers are gettin stomped
I’m not a addict, more like Puff than Magic
Then pass it when I’m through cause my crew gots to have it
I don’t claim to be a big rap star
Cause no matter who you are, you’ll still catch a bullet scar
So listen up and take heed to what I’m sayin
Cause tonight’s the night and me and my niggaz ain’t playin

Fat black bitch! Nasty..
Bush bear, booga breath bitch
Nasty, talk to your tits bitch
With them nasty Africans, Mr. Bojangles
Turned up shoes havin ass..
Lemming leprechaun haircut motherfucker!

You wanna see me get cool, please, save it for the breeze
Cause the lyrics and tracks, make me funky like cottage cheese
Fuck the smoov shit, I get down wit the boom bip
Like Q-Tip, I kick more styles than Bruce shoe’s kick
But tonight’s the night what I write tonight
This type of funk with the flavor like Mike’n'Ike’s
Hanging out wit my niggaz, my niggaz
The {Pack Pistol Posse} keep they fingers on the triggers
I keep the 40 between my lap, coolin, rollin down the highway
Blunt system pumps cause it’s Friday
Roll over to pick my boys up, we raise a lot of noise
Cause, we can do that black, so get the bozack jack
Remember, I do the type of evil that men do
Like cursin out my window at a bitch and her friend too
So turn the volume up a notch
And watch the ba-BUMP, ba-BUMP, make ya speakers pop
That’s the funk, when it pumps it makes your rump
Jump, jump, jump.. jump, jump, jump
But if you want to see a fly but frantic
Cool romantic, more Slick=er than my man Rick
You better check the Yellow Pages under smoov shit
Cause Red ain’t down for the bullshit
Niggaz fucked up by letting me make an album (How come rude bwoy?)
To get on the mic and let my fuckin style run

Nasty fuckin greenthumb Jolly Green niggaz
Tango mango, pickin havin ass
Nasty epileptic disease crazy havin ass
Johnny Cash, afro havin
Jack of Spades, boots havin
Tony Danza, shoes wearin ass!

B-b-b-black by popular demand, I expand
My hand to the mic and let my mouth kick the flim flam
I get sex, I get wreck, I puff mad blunts
I get vexed, I break necks, punch out gold fronts, chump
You…

Yo, fuck that, yo turn this shit off man
Turn this shit off, G
Boom the new record on, knahmsayin?

Intro:

Eeeyeahh
Wuditlooklike to all you trick bitches
And you punk ass niggaz out there
I’m talkin to you live from WFDS
We’re From the DarkSide radio
It’s about two thousand degrees down this motherfucker
But the funk just don’t stop
As we take y’all fat roly poly asses on another journey
To the darkside…

Verse One:

Wuditlooklike? When I wipe off my sweat
Verbally I’m Untouchable like Elliot Ness
To the best of my ability I rock any facility
And fuck the yellow cabs I smoke buddha out deliveries
I’m just as high as the fuckin friendly skies
When I’m, open, you can’t even see my chinky eyes
Cause the buddha I smoke, is no joke, when I’m loc’ed
Then I wet it, then you be like — that shit be soaked!!
I’m saggin my…. Karl Kani…
And Two Black Guys when I get busy like the L.I.
Well I, swing it back and forth like a leaf
Without traffic I flow like the B.Q.E.
But I can pass niggaz straight out of first-class
Then leave em huffin and puffin like first day at Lemans class
PPP, got the glocks and techs
And Def Squad always got some fly shit on deck

Chorus: repeat 4X

I said wuditlooklike (wuditlooklike)
Wuditlooklike (wuditlooklike)

Verse Two:

A-hem…

The Funk Doctor Spock blow the watt through your box
I come hotter than Treach, you bet about callin the cops
Because (this type of funk you don’t hear on the regular)
Rock six seven eight nine ten (to eleven ta)
Knew my style got more powers than Cocoon
Zoom your focus, I drop the mic and leave it smokin
When I’m vexed, my concepts Wreck like Effect
Verbal communications blow to the next ep
I’m robbin your brains with antilogical, phenomical
Suicidal with lethal type funk spread your nodules
Straight up the weight up plus I max like a Beta
Boy I fuck your head up like a blunt that’s laced up
The boogie verbalist, vocalist
I get open with, puttin scannings on the fake soloist
My style reachin down like Ike, switch up like dykes and
You’ll be tellin your psychologist wuditlooklike

Chorus

Verse Three:

Wuditlooklike suckers, punk motherfuckers
Bitches be actin funny, don’t wanna show me no love cuz
They think I’m crazy and like mentally sick
Ahhh, give em the dick then they quiver like fish, then I
Smoke a pound of herb a day, and yo
Some bitches say, I’m the Mack like Maceo
I don’t be that I just beez the funk disease
That leave MC’s, recognizing like Sam Sneed
The funkindominal, I bring drama to any rendezvous
Rock three-sixty-five, twenty-four, Monday through
That other shit, makes them other ship, flip
Funk ridiculous, inconspicous with lyrics
A-uhhm, oh-seven-one-oh-three’s where I from
Been gettin dumb, every since Harlem World used to jump
And that’s for all them hardrock niggaz that’s comin in flocks
I bust off the glock for the hood and the block

Chorus

[Run]
Radio station on vacation
Wonder where Run was damn be patient
Comin to the rescue people won’t let you
Forget about my DJ and my crew
Pickin up the pieces nephews and nieces
Chocolate in a peanut butter cup called Reese’s
Took a little break for goodness sake
Gotta chill get ill cold fishin by the lake
Take a brain off rappin ‘member what happened
Listen reminisce and cold keep your foot tappin
Darryl and Joe cause the DJ’s Jason
Hear no fear, dear radio station

[D.M.C.]
Radio station, around the nation
Run, D, and Jason, made a dedication
To those listenin, we’re not dissin em
Recording and rewarding so we won’t be missin em
Keep on playin song, LP playin long
Jay, D, and Joe, keep the radio stayin on
I always say to Joe, turn on the radio
Jam Master Jay will know, that is the way to go
While Jay’s DJin, I will be sayin
Rhymes that are playin, FM or AM
On hot rotation, a winning combination
AM, FM, music modulation
Rappin on the mic is my occupation

That’s what I like, dear radio station

[Run]
AM, FM, thought that I left them
Back and exact never wack no more jetset
Run made a return, D makin me earn
Jay gotta play on the radio we burn
Hotter than a fire, kids goin higher
Told you on the album, that was prior
Two that’s tougher than, nobody rougher when
Run-D.M.C., throwin down like a Bufferin
Relievin all pain, receiving much gain
Remaining entertaining while we entertain
For the black white chinese spanish indian haitian
Hear no fear, dear radio station

[D.M.C.]
D, Joe, Jason, radio station
Saw that, format, you be placin
Records, other than, Run, go cover and
Put em on your list, people hear and discover them
Take or break the tunes that make it
D gotta be on top and shake it
Keep on rockin it, ain’t no stoppin
My alliance droppin science on the radio poppin it
One top ten again, Run’s gonna win again
Jay’s gonna spin again, on the FM again
I coulda and shoulda and woulda, wrote a letter
But a speech that’ll reach the streets is much better!